


Curious?

by AmanitaVirosa



Category: Forgotten Realms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 03:43:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12597348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmanitaVirosa/pseuds/AmanitaVirosa
Summary: There are many things people do not know about the Lady of Silverymoon.  There are many things she does not know about Artemis Entreri.  When a tedious job lands the two mercanies in her home, she finds her curiosity leading her down an increasingly intriguing path.Well, she always did like a challenge.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a beautiful autumn day, the leaves only just beginning to turn their vibrant reds and yellow while the grass was still a plush green, having not-quite turned from the cold. 

Alustriel stood on her veranda, doors open to allow the warm-yet-slightly-crisp air of autumn into her bedroom. She rather enjoyed this time of year, not many of the other cities' heads and leaders took it upon themselves to travel now, preferring to start wrapping themselves in their warm furs by their warmer hearths. It left her with many quiet days to simply enjoy living, something she felt she did far too little of.

Today, however, she was not so lucky. She mused on the irony that one of her dearest friends would find in her tower housing a rather particular _ex_ -assassin. 

The “ex” had to be stressed, as his companion had bid her. They were attempting to leave that mark behind him. 

So the amusing Jarlaxle had said. 

So the _ex_ -assassin had scowled. 

She mused on the implications of the other lords and ladies hearing of one Artemis Entreri taking respite with his ostentatious drow in her tower. She was quite sure they would be riddled with fits alternating between laughter and horror.

Ah, but her options had been limited. Drizzt and his friends were somewhere down south, or east, or wherever the winds had taken them, and she had had a mounting issue of trolls and goblins to be dealt with. She certainly wasn’t in any situation to deny the peculiar mercenary pair the job when they had shown up at her door with the “help wanted” poster. 

So now here they were. The two had returned from their job, weathered and worn and battered-Mr. Entreri looking particularly more worse for wear- and had requested, or well, Jarlaxle had requested they be permitted to stay and mend for a while until they sorted out their other arrangements. 

She had considered refusing, but the ever perceptive drow had dropped a not-so-subtle hint at how…unwelcoming her citizens were likely to be to a certain “belaguered _ex_ -assassin”. Truly, for one so renowned at being incredibly hostile, the man seemed to give the drow all but a free pass with his quips regarding him. Not that he didn’t glare, or scowl, or she swore she heard the man audibly growl at his partner once. He did seem to be at least attempting to appear less hostile. Which she supposed was something. 

Over all a thoroughly amusing pair the two made. She remembered then that the two were to meet her soon to give her a full report after their arrival yesterday, and sighed with a sense of reluctance as she left the bright autumn day outside.


	2. Chapter 2

Her room was divided into two in actuality; a lounge with her hearth, spacious and suitable for meetings, and a separating door to her actual sleeping chambers. The veranda outside connected both rooms, with separate entrances from both. She closed the veranda doors to her lounge now, and lit the hearth as she noted to room was perhaps slightly cooler than would be preferred for a meeting.

She didn’t wait long until a polite rapping at her door announced their arrival. At her welcome, they entered, Jarlaxle-ever brightly dressed- leading the most dour-

My, but he did clean up. 

The scowl was still certainly present, which lead her to guess that the drow may have had some influence on the degree to which the man had tidied himself up, but she had nearly doubted he was in fact the same man at all. 

She decided it was a shame the scowl was still present, given how rather handsome he was even with it. 

A scowl that seemed to slightly deepen as he entered the room, body language portraying a tightly closed off man-

-that made a beeline to the lit hearth? 

She nearly cocked her head as her eyes followed the man across the room.

Jarlaxle cleared his throat as Entreri glowered at the drow. She turned her attention to him, to see a returning exasperated glance directed at the man. 

Jarlaxle bowed with a flourish as he spoke, “My apologies dearest lady, I’m afraid my friend has allowed his dislike of the fresher north to turn his mood further-“ 

“I mean I _could_ be warm but someone here insisted on the _joys_ of the north.” Came the baleful reproach from near the hearth, a snarl punctuating nearly every word. 

The drow shot a quick glare-nearly imperceptible- that she barely caught, and she found herself suddenly quite amused at the scene unfolding before her. “Artemis. I understand the cold makes you _cranky_ , but-“

A snarl interrupted him. “You’ve dragged me across the continent to freeze to death-“

Now Jarlaxle turned to face him, a small scowl on his own face. “Oh, don’t be melodramatic! You’ll hardly freeze to death inside-“

“You opened the window in my room _on purpose_.” He hissed.

“You were taking too long! I had to wake you up somehow!” the drow protested. “Besides, it was beginning to get stuffy in your room from it being overly warm, I did you a favour.” He ended with a huff.

“It just so happens I like it _overly_ warm.“ he retorted, a sneer pulling at his lips. “Next time stay in your own gods damned room if you want it cooler.”

“Oh yes, I believe I shall,“ Jarlaxle threw his hands up in the air, exasperated, “Would you like me to swaddle you in blankets? Maybe sing you a lullaby to send you off to your nap time?” he spat, voice thick with sarcasm. 

A non-verbal snarl that would befit a beast was his reply, the man’s visage twisting in fury. 

“ _I hate you_.” His voice was guttural and vicious. 

Yet, for some bizarre reason it didn’t strike her as an overly genuine statement. Perhaps it was influenced by the fact she was certain the man couldn’t possibly be any closer to the fire without being _in_ the fire. She delicately lifted a hand to cover the mirth that threatened spill from her lips, fully aware of how incredibly inappropriate it was.

She must not have been entirely successful, as the man soon turned his gaze towards her, his eyes narrowing as he took in the light dancing in her eyes. 

“I will ensure I close the veranda doors sooner next time we meet Mr. Entreri.” Suicidal, perhaps. Poking the bear, most certainly. Her amusement got the better of her as she made a small jab at the man’s discomfort from the cold.

His eyes narrowed, if possible, even further. She did not doubt there were likely a dozen different ways he could punish her for the slight whirling through his mind, and yet – yet the legendary assassin seemed so very human in this moment. 

Oops. _Ex_ -assassin. 

Not that he seemed to give off an air of being truly retired. 

Or perhaps he did, as she doubted it was customary for active assassins to reveal how poorly they were tolerating the cooler weather of the north. 

A knock sounded at the door then, interrupting the three-way standoff between the flamboyant mercenary drow, _ex_ -assassin, and the noble lady. 

One of her servants entered, tray laden with a steaming kettle of hot water, a selection of different pouches filled with various teas, and three cups. Setting it down on the low-set lounge table they curtsied and promptly left, shutting the door behind them once again. 

She really shouldn’t. 

“Would you like a hot tea to help you warm up?” Her smile refused to die completely as she verbally poked the rather irritable man again. 

Well, no one ever said she was perfect. Or if they did they had never truly come to know her. 

“I hear chamomile helps to calm nerves, would it work on grouchy-ness?” a near muttered jab came from her left. 

Entreri's furious glare flew back over to the drow. 

“ _I hate you so much_.” The man hissed. 

She failed miserably, and the titter of mirth spilled from her lips. She couldn’t help but to wonder by what miracle of miracles she was allowed to witness such an amusing exchange between the two mercenaries. It certainly gave her an insight as to how the pair normally functioned-if you could call this functioning. 

She noted then the slightly darker circles under his eyes, and mused if perhaps the sleep cycle of his old profession had not yet released it’s claws from him. 

A sleepy, cold assassin.

_Ex_ -assassin.

No wonder he was grouchy. 

“Have either of you eaten yet?”. She decided she ought to try to bridge the gap, and perhaps offer some salve for the cranky man. Also to see if there was a third element to his foul mood. 

She belatedly realized she was rather intrigued with the man before her.


	3. Chapter 3

The meeting had gone well, after she had arranged for some breakfast to be brought up. Between the steak, eggs and biscuits, with a few cups of hot tea, Mr. Entreri had seemed to settle into a more amiable mood. For him, at least. Jarlaxle had given an apt reporting of the job, describing where they had estimated the majority of the goblins to be coming from, and how they presumed they were simply accidentally luring the trolls with them as the hulks had appeared to be attacking the goblins as frequently as they did people. Entreri had added his own observations in, circling on the map she had provided the three locations of the caves they had found.

With the wealth of information provided to her she had summoned a small force of guards to go secure the area, assured it would be ample from the report by the two mercenaries.

Now she was free to puzzle about the surprisingly-more-human-than-anticipated Artemis Entreri. Tired, cold, hungry and supremely cranky when all three were combined, he’d made her intrigued. Especially when she considered her shock at how handsome the man appeared to be when he cleaned up. His raven black hair, thick and well-cared for, had been neatly pulled back and tied leaving only a few errant strands of hair to frame his face. His jaw defined by the just the slimmest edge of facial hair along it, to accumulate into a stylish goatee at his sharp chin, his skin the warm brown of a southerner-with just a hint of grey beneath it from the shade he’d apparently absorbed(That had been quite an interesting tangent in their conversation.). She wasn’t surprised to find herself recalling the shape of his lips -slightly pursed in his scowl as they had been- or how his eyes did not appear so black as rumours had led her to believe. Certainly they had appeared to lighten and darken with his mood, an interesting trait that she suspected was quite possibly the only way for one to gain any sort of hint on said mood, but they were most assuredly not black. A stormy grey rather is what she’d witnessed, a most unusual colour for the eyes of a desert man.

She tutted at herself. What did she think she was doing, mulling over the attractiveness of such a man?

Well, he didn’t strike her as the sort of man to easily jump into her bed. She suspected it was likely to be a bit of challenge to get him to even consider it -and she did like challenges.

Perhaps enough of a challenge that she could consider pursuing him and adding him to the very limited number of men she had been with?

She hummed to herself. Some more research needed to be done on the man before she gave this thought any credibility.

As she looked out to the swaying trees in the garden below, the lady of Silverymoon found herself smiling inwardly, looking forward to the days before her.

 


	4. Chapter 4

He was less pissed off than he had been this morning. He would still prefer to be back home in the desert, but getting on Jarlaxle’s nerves to the point he hadn’t been able to keep up his lover-boy façade in front of the lady Alustriel had been satisfying.

He could have gone without her making jabs of her own at him, however.

Admittedly, he was feeling a bit more alive than he was this morning. He was warm again(back in his room with the window closed), was full and was more-or-less awake at this point. The result was him being significantly more tolerant of verbal jabs. He certainly hadn’t anticipated the lady to be rather suicidal, as the jittery glimmer in her eyes had spoken of her recognition that she was possibly crossing a line with him. At the time he’d had half a mind to kill her where she stood, but now he found the hint of attitude she’d revealed to be amusing. That didn’t mean he was happy with her, however. Or even amiable, if he were honest.

He set his weapons down, propping Claw up against the nightstand while he placed his dagger under the pillow on the bed, satisfied that they were well cared for. He put the stone, oil and cloth away in their pouch and replaced it back into his travel sack before he let himself fall back to lay on the bed.

He stretched and a sigh passed through his lips without thought.

The breakfast had been good; he usually enjoyed steak, eggs and biscuits for breakfast. The biscuits had been light and fluffy, the steak cooked to perfection and not seasoned too lightly or heavy, and the eggs had not been overcooked. Overall a satisfying meal, and yet…

Curry would have been better.

Even a mild curry.

He made a half-hearted grumble and rolled over onto his stomach.

The room was finally beginning to warm up to the point where it resembled the heat of a day at home. The last few days where the weather had been turning miserable and cold up here in the north he’d been plagued by thoughts of hot sun, warm sand, lazy afternoons and spicy foods. His mind conjured up the image of a spicy red curry spread over a bed of rice and he found his mouth slightly watering.

It wasn’t often that he found himself wishing to hear the sounds of his home city, or smell the spices and perfumes that so heavily permeated the air but this was definitely- unfortunately- one of those times. It was high noon at the moment, right when the desert would reach its hottest temperature for the day and everyone retired to sleep for a few hours until the heat abated somewhat. The gentle waves of heat emanating from the lit fireplace in his room mimicked the hot winds that normally wafted through the city, loosening his muscles bit-by-bit and slowly tugging him towards an idle slumber.

Basadoni had made a mean curry, he remembered as his mind started to drift. He belatedly wondered if he should have asked for the recipe before he killed the man. Then he remembered Dwahvel also made an excellent curry. He mused on finding a way back to Calimport just so he could visit her. It would mean finding some way to possibly ditch the drow, and he momentarily marvelled at just how terrible of an idea that had the potential to be.

The world took on a fuzzy sort of atmosphere as the heat lulled him closer towards sleep, and he fought it only long enough to toe off his socks. By the time he’d managed to free his feet from the cloth and kick them away slightly, his world was dark and peaceful.

 


End file.
